On Acting

Having the privilege of behaving fearless or fearsome, bad-ass or pedant (and the list can continue for long), without real-life consequences, is one of the great advantages of being an actor. It doesn’t matter if one creates a sociable or an introvert self, a successful or a scumbag citizen. For what is counts, is solely the quality of the act.

“‘You’ve been a brilliant criminal last night. My deepest appreciation, sir. ”

***

Thoughts on acting re-ignited by Bronson and this article on Maison Neuve, on monologues.

Everyday Drinking by Amis Kingsley

Excerpts from Everyday Drinking

Bury Me Standing by Isabel Fonseca

This is not say that I am ignorant with respect to the Gypsy culture or to the historic facts that contributed to impeding the evolution of their group in a manner that would mould into the host culture, keep their identity intact and not projecting itself as dangerous to the host values. Yet, Isabel Fonseca’s tourist in Europe book, charming, well written and informative on many levels, takes a hard to swallow, strong stand against the European nations for failing to integrate the Gypsy group and, in quite a naive manner, strips the Gypsies of any wrongdoing by always attaching a reason behind the actions they are usually blamed for.  Stealing and laziness translate into entrepreneurship, while the persistence of filth, of slums wherever they decide to settle, are countered by the simple statement that in their culture one should not clean outside their house hold. It’s other people’s job to do so.

The most difficult to swallow finding seems to be the acknowledgment that Gypsies do resist integration, but it is the host country’s only fault for failing at this aim.

I wouldn’t recommend the book to someone who has never lived long enough within European borders or who hasn’t documented thorougly on the subject, because they would not have means to counter-balance this lovely, yet highly subjective and judgemental book

Only stripped of its accusatory tone I could enjoy it.

Reading Americans Talk About Love.

Readings June 30

Green Card Cinderellas – educated, billingual Japanese middle class women, who’s identity and self esteem are shattered once they fullfil their dream, the acquisition of a white husband. From Journal of  Identity and Migration Identity Study, via BookForum.

Will Frears post on on England’s Loss Germany left me nodding in aprroval. Via The Paris Review blog.

Readings June 19

Jose Saramago has passed away. The 1998 Paris Review interview here.

On a different note, admitting that it is just a miss-match between the two of us, I’ve decided to leave Small Wars lecture unfinished.

The Romanian by Bruce Benderson

‘The Romanian’ idles now by my side with crumpled pages, not long after reading Bruce Benderson’s interview in The Rumpus. Must be the longing for connection with a space I know too well, the space of a post communist Romania whose youth are struggling to come to terms with the endless material possibilities that the western world lavishes on its people, but which are out of reach for easterners.

My state evolved during the lecture from being unimpressed, or better said, slightly edgy regarding the author’s [what it seemed at that stage] exclusive contact with the underground Romania, to being bemused and feeling superior towards the American’s naiveté who lacks the basics notions of street smartness and who gullible engages in potentially dangerous situations, even bursting at one point ‘he’s so lucky. Romulus could have robbed him so many times’, traversing sadness towards the most likely sorrowful end the story will unroll, finally settling in genuine joy when faced with the improbable, yet real finale of this modern day, gay Lolita novel.

An appealing reading.

***

The nerve.com article that drove the adventure.

Dropped Three Trapped Tigers , reading The Black Book of Communism and Small Wars.

The Loss of Sadness by Allan V. Horwitz and Jerome C. Wakefield

The belief that one should always be happy, smile and act social is against human nature, unbalanced and extremely idiotic.

‘The Loss of Sadness’ came to cement the above. Yes, there exist real cases of depressive disorder caused by chemical imbalances. But about prescribing serotonin busters to someone who is experiencing a melancholic period caused by losses in its life, robs that person of a magnificent solitary state that one can experience during that time. It also leads to stigmatization and numbness.

***

The cover reminds me of Norman Manea’s novel  ‘The Hooligan’s Return‘, briefly reviewed here.  The banner Depression is a flaw in chemistry, not in character stands for an interdiction of sadness in the US paradise, in Manea’s book.

You can go through a preview on Google Books.

Waiting for: Three Trapped Tigers , reading The Black Book of Communism and Understanding Close-up Photography.

Vilnius Poker by Ricardas Gavelis

One of the hard-to-quit-books, if what I just said can be considered a category. After all, it should come easy to put an unpromising novel aside. But reading Vilnius Poker developed abruptly into a situation similar to a turbulent relationship. A relationship that fails to work despite the emotional common ground between the two, yet none wants to walk out on the other.

I felt early for the beautifully crafted phrase and, deep into forty pages, the prospect of finishing the reading for this reason alone, appeared to be reasonable. But the constant rambling in circles of Vytautas Vargalis was too irritating. To the point where I didn’t only shut the book loud (it is a hardback), I also slammed the door to the reading room. What was so irking about the novel? I would itemize the lack of novelty, of variety, of progress in any direction. The novel behaves, for a good two hundred pages plus, like the calm, immovable surface of a lake.

A Lithuanian soviet camp survivor, Vytautas might as well have died, as the life he leads after getting out is a life in constant fear of the surroundings. He despises Vilnius and its occupants. Every person or situation frightens him, suspecting that is an act of Theirs meant to exterminate his own persona, physically or just at the moral level. They are everywhere and are kanuking people. The kanuked people are slaves to an oppressive system, gladly obeying uniformity.

Vargalys’s fears are not ill-founded. What he describes as kanuked is what can be spotted with ease amongst any of the contemporary societies. But the desperation this imagined situation seeds into his soul is of unmanageable proportions and leads to emotional turmoil. And who would listen benevolently to the rants of a delusional man, even if, at times, they develop into brilliant monologue.  It took a great amount of determination to read through when I lost the hope that Vytautas will evolve.

Vytautas sees different. He is not right, nor wrong. There is more shown to his eye compare to the eye of anyone around him. His pores are larger, his eyes can differentiate not only colors, but insights and his smell is monstrous. He is paranoid. There exists an overall bad which suffocates Vilnius and the entire humanity and, in the same time, is responsible for his broken life. A bad that Vargalys considers its own personal target.

There are countless interesting passages in Vilnius Poker. The tone, in general, is incriminating, harsh, difficult to swallow even for a non-Lithuanian. Theories like the Vilnius Syndrome, or homo Lithuanicus versus homo Sovieticus spread on many pages and in the detriment of the urban space or it’s urbanites.

Vilnius Poker makes a great, worthy reading, but very wearying in the same time. At times the story becomes so violent, yet in such a natural way that one can consider that Ricardas Gavelis hates its readers.

This is not a love story, as many tend to imply. Of course, there is the intense, destructive Lolita, or the loving Stefa, or Irena, the savior. They are episodes, unlike Vilnius, which is always present. Unlike Them, who never cease to torment Vytauta’s soul.

***

The cover, designed by Milan Bozic, plays an important role in attracting readers.

I admire the Open Letter translation projects.

Notable Vilnius Poker reviews:

Paul Doyle’s review here.

You can go through a preview on Google Books.

Currently reading: The Loss of Sadness and The Black Book of Communism (not a sustained reading; too dark to digest it in one go).

Playing the Victim by Presnyakov Brothers

Preaching avoidance as a properly asserted philosophy of leading an existence is the subject the play seems to circle around.

The practitioner is Valya, a University drop out who often soliloquizes about methods of shirking. The situations he evades this way vary in importance. Some are as trivial as washing the dishes which he avoids by doubling his dinner time using chopsticks he can’t manipulate, or inner threats like entering a pool, a situation he escapes by intentionally forgetting his swimsuit when mandatory, and bragging about how much he wishes to jump into the water. Are they really sure that there is no possibility for him to use the pool?

His parents would rather have him a drug addict. At least they could touch the ‘illness’ that is determining Valya to show so little interest in what they know as normal life. Instead, Valya chooses as a job to play the victim in murder reconstructions.

A point I’d like to touch. While I take notes during reading, and in the end I write my own opinion about the book, I do peek into the reviews others wrote on the same. Not overly surprised, rather slightly taken aback by, is trend in the reviews for Playing the Victim to account Valya’s choice as a job to his fear of death, of which apparently he attempts to vaccinate against by playing the role of the murdered, of the dead. This is a very facile explanation given by the authors themselves in a dialogue at the end of the play. Could be extreme, but it feels like the brothers poked some fun with those lines.

Next on my list, of the same authors, is ‘Let’s kill the referee’. Technically, this is the first on my list, I just didn’t yet manage to find it at the bookstores I buy from.

If I’d recommend the play? Of course. It made me laugh.

You can go through a preview of the play on Google Books.

Currently reading: Vilnius Poker and The Black Book of Communism (not a sustained reading; too dark to digest it in one go)

12:08 East of Bucharest

New Year commenced with a fast, delightful reading. The movie script of ’12:08 East of Bucharest’, by Corneliu Porumboiu (2006).

Sixteen years after the fall of the communism in Romania, a small town local television schedules before Christmas a talk show which intention is to answer the question: Was it there or wasn’t it there? revolution in our town.

The show guests, some obscure small town political figures don’t answer their phones at the set date. Jderescu, the talk show host, a former textile engineer and also the owner of the TV station, improvises by bringing in two relatively random men. Santa Clause and the history teacher. Piscoci, an old man often dressed as Santa during Christmas holidays and Manescu, a soft hearted alcoholic who insists that there was revolution in Vaslui. Himself, along with a handful of friends protested in the town’s square on 22^nd December 1989. And that, before 12:08 o’clock.

The debate will center on the 12:08, the time Ceausescu fled Bucharest. Was it any unrest recorded before 12:08 in Vaslui square, or wasn’t it?  Constantly interrupted by live calls from viewers who will either challenge the events as presented by Manescu, or will ally with the guests, the dialogue is alert, entirely subjective and often slides towards quarrels.
An entertaining analysis of one’s desire for social assertion, for a special place in the events that shaped the society he lives in.

You can download the free movie script in Romanian from   www.liternet.ro

A review in the New York Times.

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